Hello To Myself
by noelswonderland
Summary: First impressions can be deceiving, but one never expects a chance encounter to have any lasting impact. Behind those flirty overtures is a lonely individual who has long grown cynical with the world. Kiyoto Makimura x OC


**Author's Note:** A sore lack of otome fanfiction on here is motivating me and I hope to be posting more. This is actually (ironically) the first first-person story I have ever written, I think? Anyways, hope you guys enjoy. Proofreading done by Tomey (otomesweetheart) from tumblr.

First chapter will give a better introduction to the OC. ;3

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**Prologue**

It was winter, and the snow was flurrying down. The layers I had been wearing were far too thin, and I was chilled to the bone, hurrying into the art building with a sketchbook cradled against my chest. It was only my second semester at University and while my parents said my dreams were farfetched, I was determined to prove that they were anything but.

Since it was late in the day, I imagined the art room would be mostly deserted. With the holidays quickly approaching, it only seemed natural for people to be busying themselves with preparations. And so I did not anticipate finding a single soul when I whipped the door open and stepped inside.

But therein, amber rays streaming in through the window, curtains drawn back, I could see a figure slumped over in an easy chair in the corner. It was a worn piece of furniture, whose presence I had never appreciated nor understood. However, seeing that person stretched out on it, I got the impression that it was almost as though it existed solely for them.

That was a silly thought, but inspiration struck me the longer I gazed at the man. I left the door ajar and wandered closer – tip-toeing as much as possible in hopes that the noise of my entrance would not manage to stir him. With some luck, I managed to get close enough to make out the intricate features of his face.

_Whoa, handsome,_ I thought to myself the longer I stared.

Long lashes, well-defined cheek bones, clean-shaven. But ironically his hair was messy – loose ebony tendrils were plastered across his forehead, uncut and hanging down into his eyes – which remained closed for the moment. I could make out the steady rise and fall of the man's chest as he dozed. His pale lips were set in a content smile.

It was too much to resist somehow and I fumbled to flip through the pages of my sketchbook to find a blank page. Then I had to root around in my pocket to find my pencil. As soon as I had it in my grasp, I pressed the lead to the white page and started sketching out an outline, occasionally peering back at his face.

I was unsure how much time passed – I was so immersed in my drawing. It was sometime after I had started to work on the finer details, gaze occasionally flitting up to confirm the image in my mind. I took extra time on his lips, tracing their exact shape on the page. And then when I glanced back up again, I was immediately startled to find dark irises peering back at me with intrigue. My heart nearly stopped on the spot.

"Uh – uhm, I..."

"Ohh, that's pretty bold to come in here and just start drawing someone when they're sleeping," he drawled with a suggestive smirk, running a finger along the edge of his lips.

I gulped. The thought had not occurred to me but I had always made a point of asking permission in the past before drawing someone. Yet in this instance, having suffered a bit of an artist block for the past few weeks, I was too eager the moment inspiration hit. He definitely deserved an apology. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to just..."

"You could always make it up to me with your body," he offered, reaching toward my hand.

That look on his face, eyes narrowed like a predator focusing on its prey – it unnerved me. Without even thinking, I swung my sketchbook and smacked him right in the side of the head. _Oh shit–_

A moment of silence ensued in which he stared at me blankly, head slightly tilted from the force of the blow he had just taken. All semblance of amusement had drained from his face. I could only imagine my own expression being a look of sheer horror as I slowly withdrew my sketchbook, chagrined at my own actions.

_Should I apologize?_ I debated it in my head but ultimately resolved that he had inappropriately come on to me and deserved no such consideration.

"I'm not going to say sorry," I said finally, though the words were more or less choked out and strained. "You... you shouldn't just say things like that if you don't mean them!"

Finally his lips creased and he let out a chuckle. "I'm not particularly interested in girls like you anyways but at least you're entertaining." He didn't seem to be addressing me so much as narrating his own inner thoughts.

"Not interested? What is that supposed to mean?" Why did I sound so offended? Shouldn't I have been grateful he was only teasing?

"I only like women who are taken."

"And how do you know I'm not taken?!"

He pointed at me with a smirk. "That attitude makes it pretty clear you're single."

Flustered at his declaration – especially that, unbeknownst to him, it was actually accurate – I gaped while searching for a quip to sling back at him. "Y-yeah? Well, then I bet that goes double for you. I can't imagine anyone would want to put up with a jerk like you." Okay that was ridiculouslessly underwhelming for an intended insult.

"Hm, maybe single but my bed's full."

"Your... bed? Do you mean...?" My cheeks heated up. How could he be so vulgar?

"Ohh, you must really be a prude since you're blushing like that. Don't tell me you're still a–"

"I'm leaving!" I blurted out hastily, stomping toward the exit. I paused only briefly and whipped around to give him a solid glare, poking my tongue out before slamming the door behind me as I left. Although my entire trip down the hallway was spent inwardly berating myself for being so immature and acting so childish.

It never occurred to me that our encounter was anything more than coincidence, or that I would ever see him again. At the time, I did not even have a name to put to his face.


End file.
